Ben lightly placed his hand at the small of Drue’s back, guiding her through the crowd. When they emerged from the dim coolness of the restaurant back onto the sidewalk, they both blinked in the bright sunlight and blast-furnace afternoon heat.

“Hey, Drue?” he said, as they set out on the five-block walk back to the office.

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him.

“I’m really glad you trusted me enough to talk about this stuff today. But I have to warn you, if you’re gonna keep working at CCK, you’re going to have to understand that bad shit happens to good people. Not just sometimes, but all the time. You have to stop taking this stuff so personally. Okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled. “I’ll try.”

32

As soon as Drue sat back down at her desk, but before she could don what she thought of as her “office sweater,” her phone chirped with an incoming text. It was from Brice.

Drue: See me in Wendy’s office. ASAP! Urgent!

“What now?” she mumbled.

“Huh?” Ben rolled his chair backward and poked his head around the corner of the cubicle.

“I’ve been summoned. To meet with Dad.”

“He probably wants to congratulate you on locking down the 7-Eleven thing,” Ben said. “Just go.”

She trudged toward the office, her curiosity growing with every step.

“Come in,” Wendy called, after Drue tapped lightly on her closed office door.

She was surprised to see Wendy and Brice sitting close together on the leather sofa in Wendy’s office, Brice’s arm flung casually over his wife’s shoulder. His face was flushed; Wendy’s was, as usual, inscrutable, at least to Drue.

“Sit down,” Brice said, gesturing to the chair near the desk.

Drue did as she was told, crossing her ankles and waiting for the inevitable.

“Go ahead and tell her,” Brice said, nudging Wendy, who was dressed in what was, for her, a casual outfit: black linen slacks and an olive green sleeveless silk blouse.

“No, I think this should come from you,” Wendy said, a frown creasing her forehead.

“For God’s sake, one of you just tell me,” Drue said. “If you’re going to fire me, let’s go ahead and get it over with.”

“Fire you?” Brice laughed. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because double secret probation isn’t working out?”

“It’s working out fine,” Brice assured her. “Don’t be so paranoid. Zee tells me you were great interviewing that witness yesterday. But that’s not really why we wanted to see you.”

He reached behind the sofa cushion and brought out a glittering blue gift bag tied with a bow on the handle. “This is for you,” he said, handing it across to her. “Open it, please.”

“Oh-kayyy,” she said slowly. She untied the satin ribbon and reached into the tissue-filled bag, pulling out a white cotton T-shirt.

“Uh, thanks.”